Pinecone was a pygmy grey and white Tabby cat, the last feline companion I have had to date. My brother and I discovered her one evening as we were making our way home; she was infested with fleas, and despite my brother's objections, I could not bring myself to abandon her. I scooped her up and brought her home. Initially, our mother was hesitant to allow Pinecone inside, so I sat outdoors with her. As I pondered what to name her, she affectionately nuzzled her head against my face. At that moment, a pinecone fell from a tree nearby, inspiring her name. Recognizing my determination, my mother permitted me to keep her. I gave Pinecone a bath, which she surprisingly enjoyed initially, though she developed an aversion to baths afterward. Pinecone quickly formed a close bond with Peanut, and they frequently groomed each other. Amusingly, Pinecone seemed to regard herself as male, as she often attempted to mate with Peanut. She had a fondness for ice cream and would perch on my shoulder while I moved about the house, to the point where I occasionally forgot she was there. However, Pinecone did not take kindly to my skinny pig, Crowley. On one occasion, she swiped at Crowley, causing her to spin around in a full 360. A gentle tap on Pinecone's nose taught her not to repeat this behavior, and she did not bother Crowley again. We had a neighbor whose presence was somewhat unsettling, and one day he approached me while I was outside with Pinecone, inquiring if we had any bread. When I replied in the negative, he began to move toward me. Sensing potential danger, Pinecone immediately became protective, positioning herself between the man and me, hissing and even taking a swipe at him. The man quickly apologized and retreated, and he relocated a few days later. I remain thankful for Pinecone's protective instincts that day. Following the passing of my mother, I was compelled to relinquish Pinecone, along with my other pets. I miss Pinecone dearly and hold out hope that we may be reunited someday.